


Pioneers

by Esperata



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: 1600s, Alternate Universe - Historical, Bathing/Washing, Corruption, Deformities, Drowning, M/M, Monks, Religion, Sharing a Bed, Syndactyly, Witch Hunters, incarceration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-12-18 09:56:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18247499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Esperata/pseuds/Esperata
Summary: Its the early days of America's colonisation and the new town of Gotham is still taking shape. The good citizens are vigilant against any seeds of corruption that might taint their hoped for city but its not always easy to see past the obvious exterior to the truth within.For the Nygmobblepot week prompt: Different Era





	1. Chapter 1

James Gordon took a moment to gaze down at their destination. This land had once been entirely cut off from the mainland by a huge river, forming a waterlogged island untouched by man. The pioneers to this area had worked hard to dam one of the waterways thus allowing men to reclaim the region, building their fledgling town with easy access to the sea.

In thanks to the providence that had allowed them to succeed against the elements, a monastery had been built in the now dry bed of the carved out valley, nestled down an incline from the wondrous achievement of the dam. The native Americans had warned of meddling with nature but they did not understand the power of faith in the Almighty.

“Remind me why we didn’t take the carriage?”

James grinned across at his companion.

“Because Harvey, the exercise is beneficial. And the sea air is invigorating.”

“We get sea air back at the town hall.”

“I also wanted to take a look at the dam,” James allowed as he continued their downward leg of the journey. “It’s a marvel of ingenuity. Man exerting control over nature.”

“I don’t like it. Its meddling with forces we were never meant to have dominion over.”

James gave his friend an indulgent look. Harvey was prone to being led astray but he always listened to him.

“And whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him,” James quoted. “God gave us the skill and minds to work the land Harvey.”

Harvey grumbled under his breath but let the matter drop.

It was an easy walk downhill the rest of the way but both men felt a little unsettled at the sense of isolation the area inspired.

“Good spot for a monastery I suppose,” Harvey suggested, trying to break the silence. Down here the sea was inaudible and even the light seemed dimmer.

“Yes,” James agreed slowly. “Or an ideal place for activities you’d want to keep hidden.”

The two men shared a look. They were each dutifully pious men and willingly volunteered as witch finders. The town’s wealthy patron funded them whenever rumours began circulating of the devil afoot. How Bruce Wayne got to hear these things nobody knew. The man was quiet and almost reclusive but he did visit regularly to meet the citizens he was bank rolling in building the city and also to attend church sermons.

The idea of a monastery being the site of anything underhand was disturbing to say the least but both were determined to treat the assignment like any other. The bell rang sombrely as they announced their presence though, almost chastising them for their presumption.

As the door swung open it revealed an inquisitive face that quickly changed to a look of surprise.

“Witch finders! To what do we owe this visit?”

James smiled.

“No need to be alarmed. This is merely a precautionary visit. May we come in?”

“Of course.” The monk pulled the door open for the pair and waited politely as they entered before shutting it carefully. “Let me take you to the Abbot.”

“Thank you.”

Both men looked about curiously as they were led inside. There was a clear courtyard, with several smaller buildings arranged along the inside walls, which they were led across into the monastery proper. Immediately inside there was a large communal area where they became the subject of several interested glances. One man broke away from the trio he was talking to as soon as he saw them.

“Gentlemen. I am the Abbot. How may I assist?”

“Your Excellency. Please forgive the intrusion. I am James Gordon. My associate is Harvey Bullock. We don’t wish to interrupt however we have been asked to visit following some hearsay about illicit activities.”

“Illicit activities? Oh my!”

“Probably just malcontents causing trouble,” Harvey suggested easily. “But we have to be seen to look into these allegations. You understand.”

“Oh of course.” He spread his hands openly. “What can we do to set your minds at ease?”

“If one of your monks could show my colleague around,” James suggested. “Perhaps you can answer a few questions for me?”

The Abbot nodded and gestured one of the novices over.

“Please show this gentleman the monastery. Answer any questions he might have.”

As the pair left, James cast his gaze around the room, watching as various groups came and went, some stopping to kneel before a plain wooden cross.

“How many people do you have here?”

“We have about a hundred living with us.”

“About? You don’t have an exact figure?”

“Mister Gordon. This is a monastery not a prison.” The Abbot smiled. “Our doors are open to all, whether they wish to join or leave.”

James nodded vaguely.

“And you have no reason to suspect anyone here might have lost their way on the path to God?”

This was greeted with pursed lips.

“Many who come here are looking for atonement. We are not saints and the path to God is not easy. That is what makes our dedication special. I cannot say no-one here is without sin but I do not suspect anyone here of malicious intent.”

“I apologise. My question was thoughtless.”

The Abbot inclined his head in acceptance of the apology and James cast around for another topic. Which was when his eye fell upon the bars.

“What’s that?” He gestured.

He could see what it looked like. It looked like a jail cell. What’s more it appeared to be occupied.

“Ah.” A touch of awkwardness had entered the other man’s tone. “That is a work in progress.”

“A work in progress?” James began to walk closer. The figure in the cell looked small and his heart skipped at he thought perhaps it was a child.

“Yes. We are not sure if it might be saved but we are trying none the less.” James’ inquisitive look was enough to prompt a further explanation. “The creature’s mother had congress with a devil and this is the unfortunate result.”

Curiosity piqued, James moved closer to the bars. Definitely not a child, the figure glared up at him. At first glance James couldn’t see any abnormality except a sharper than average nose and he chastised himself for feeling disappointment. 

“Penguin,” the Abbot spoke from behind him. “Show the man.”

The glare never left his face but a flicker of something else tinged his expression. Then he opened his mouth to reveal crooked and jagged teeth.

“That’s not-” James began, only to be interrupted by a disappointed sigh behind him.

“ _All_ of it.”

Slowly, the short man in the cell withdrew his hands from his sleeves and held them out. The something else in his gaze was clearly recognisable as shame now and James cast his gaze away out of his own sense of embarrassment. Only to gasp as he saw the hands.

He instinctively moved closer to the bars to see better. Each hand bore only three digits. The fingers being fused together in pairs. James looked up again and met a defiant stare.

“The feet bear a similar deformity,” the Abbot informed him. “It affects it’s ability to walk.”

“Can it speak?”

“Yes. The language was somewhat… crude, when it arrived here but it’s perfectly coherent.”

James was distracted at that moment as Harvey approached them.

“Ah, your Excellency? I know it’s not generally permitted but I would appreciate it if I could just take a glance in the sacristy. Then we’ll be on our way.”

A moment passed as the Abbot seemed to debate the question. Then he nodded.

“Of course. I will show you myself. Will you be alright to wait here Mister Gordon?”

He nodded his acquiescence and watched as the other men left.

“Psst.”

The sound startled him and he glanced round in surprise. None of the monks appeared to be paying him any attention and none of them were close enough for hushed conversation.

“Behind you!” the voice hissed irritably and he suddenly realised it was coming from the cell.

The figure had approached the bars and was gripping them with its awkward hands.

“Penguin, isn’t it?” James asked as he faced him. The figure flinched slightly and ignored the question.

“You’re investigating here aren’t you?” he countered.

“I am.”

“Then you’ll want to hear what I know.” Penguin grinned, his sharp teeth looking more menacing than friendly.

“You know something?”

“Nobody thinks the freak will notice anything. They don’t think I hear what they talk about. Or see what they do. Where they go,” he hinted.

“If you know something then it’s your civic duty to tell me.”

Penguin shook his head.

“Oh no. If you want me to talk then you have to get me out of here.”

“That’s not very Christian of you.”

The wicked grin flashed again.

“Didn’t you hear the Abbot? I’m not one of God’s creations.”

“Then I should leave you here. Where you stand the best chance of finding salvation.”

“No! I don’t need salvation. I’ve not done anything wrong other than be born different.” As Jim turned away, Penguin pleaded one last time. “And given the depravities committed here, this is the last place one should put a soul in need of redemption. Can you leave an innocent creature in a house of horrors?”

“Depravities?” He looked over Penguin carefully as he nodded emphatically.

“Please. I’ll tell you what they do and how they hide it if you only _take me with you._ ”

James had no further time to question him as Harvey and the Abbot were returning. He kept his back carefully to the cell as he awaited them with an enquiring look.

“All done,” Harvey declared. “Nothing to see.”

James smiled politely.

“I’m glad to hear it.” As the Abbot gestured to show them out he made his decision. “There is one last thing however. I’d like to take Penguin here with us.”

“What?” Harvey exclaimed unhelpfully.

“I do not understand,” the Abbot responded more calmly.

“Our benefactor, Mister Wayne, has a special interest in lost causes such as this creature. He would be keen to assess him so that he might better understand how to help other such souls. I am sure that once that is done, so long as it does prove the monastery is the best place for him, then Mister Wayne will return him to your care.”

The Abbot looked silently at him and James tried to maintain his easy façade. To his relief, Harvey leant his own support.

“Didn’t you hear about the Wayne family’s charity? They take in all sorts of cases. Homeless children, those who’ve suffered horrendous injuries and those just born odd. This freak looks just the sort of creature Wayne would want to rehabilitate.”

“Well, if it may prove of benefit to Penguin then of course by all means.” He stepped up to the bars and unlocked the heavy padlock. “You understand that we have grown quite fond of the creature over its time with us. I would hate to think anything untoward might happen outside of our care.”

That feeling didn’t look to be reciprocated as Penguin shuffled his way out, keeping as much distance between himself and the Abbot as possible.

“I assure you, he will be well looked after. Thank you for your time.”

James maintained his position at the rear of their trio as Harvey led them towards the exit. Penguin moved painfully slowly and James had to wonder how much was his deformity and how much simply lack of exercise in that cell.

Once they were outside the walls, well on their slow way back up the slope, Harvey fell back alongside James.

“Why are we really bringing the freak with us?”

“He said he knew something about the monks,” James whispered back, alert for any signs of betrayal from either ahead or behind.

“And if he doesn’t? If this is just a ploy to escape for his own reasons?”

Jim looked at the shuffling figure just now reaching the top of the hill.

“Its not like he can outrun us,” he pointed out before being surprised by a sudden peal of clear laughter. Up ahead Penguin turned with a wide smile to look back at them.

“I can see the sea!” he declared gleefully.

James smiled to Harvey and shrugged.

“And I’m not going to begrudge him a few days freedom even if he doesn’t know anything.”


	2. Chapter 2

Penguin wasn’t sure where the witch finders had brought him but he could see it wasn’t the home of their wealthy patron. They’d stopped outside an apothecary shop before the two men had led him up a narrow staircase to a wooden door obviously leading to an apartment above the shop. Neither had spoken to him though and he’d opted to remain quiet for the time being.

“Mister Nygma,” James called again impatiently through the door.

“One moment,” the harassed voice replied for the second time in a minute.

Harvey leant closer to his partner.

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to leave the freak here?”

“He’s under our protection. No-one will look for him here. Besides,” he cast a glance back at the awkward individual. “He’ll probably feel more comfortable with Nygma than anyone else.”

Harvey smirked and Penguin wondered what that comment meant but in that instant the door finally opened and he got his first look at Mister Nygma.

The man was tall, taller than either of the other men and towered over him. He was in the process of removing a pair of eyeglasses and tucking them into the pocket of his frayed jacket. Despite his visual impairment however Penguin judged him to be still young. An opinion that was reinforced when he finally focused on them and smiled brightly, with an almost child-like glee at the sight of them.

“Come in.”

The witch finders gave little acknowledgement to their host as they pulled Penguin inside with them.

“What were you up to Edward?” Harvey asked. “Because we’ve warned you before-”

“Nothing heretical,” Nygma assured swiftly and with a hint of annoyance that was swiftly subsumed beneath his smile. “I simply wasn’t dressed.”

His gaze locked itself on the last member of their party. Penguin was used to being stared at but this attention was different. It felt like this Mister Nygma was seeing more than most.

“Aren’t you going to introduce me?” Edward asked eagerly and James took over the formalities.

“Edward, this is Penguin. He’s helping us in our investigations and needs to stay here a while.”

“Here?”

“Is that going to be a problem?” Bullock’s tone implied the correct answer was ‘no’. Penguin recognised the tone and glanced to see his host’s reaction. To his surprise Edward didn’t seem at all perturbed.

“Not at all. It will be nice to have company.”

Harvey shook his head as if this answer still disappointed him somehow.

“Good,” James concluded. “Just make sure he’s fed and doesn’t go anywhere.” He then turned his severe look onto Penguin. “We’ll see how much of what you’ve told us is true.”

He led Bullock back to the door before glancing once again to the odd pair.

“We’ll come collect Penguin tomorrow.”

And with that the witch finders were gone and Penguin turned back to find Edward was once again focusing that intense stare on him.

Edward was cataloguing every detail he could make out in hope of better deciphering his guest. The man’s appearance was certainly unusual but he wasn’t at all put off by that – indeed he found it fascinating – but on a practical level there were several deductions to make.

His clothing was clearly begged as it didn’t fit his short stature in any sense. The fact it was a monk’s habit indicated where he’d received this charity. Despite the obvious poor circumstances of his living however it was clear the man took a general pride in himself. He was not clean but obviously not for want of trying because all the stains were rubbed in at this stage. His hair was tied back as neatly as possible assuming he’d had to use his own fingers to comb it. This argued he wasn’t born to poverty but simply fallen upon hard times.

He realised he had been standing silent too long and wondered at the fact that for once he hadn’t been chastised for his lapse in sociability.

“Mister Penguin, was it?” He smiled again.

“It’s just Penguin,” he was corrected, and he noticed the unusual sharpness of the man’s teeth. Hereditary, he wondered, or brutality? “Not even that really,” Penguin added.

“Oh?”

“That’s what they called me because of…” he gestured to himself and took a few stumbling steps towards one of the table chairs. Edward could see the resemblance to the odd swimming bird of the southern country the Spaniards had conquered in his manner walk. “I hate it.”

“Well… what would you prefer me to call you? What was the name your mother gave you?”

This question was met with an unexpectedly suspicious stare and Edward wondered what he’d said wrong. He was reassured seconds later though when Penguin visibly relaxed.

“Oswald. Oswald Kapelput.”

“That’s an unusual name.” Edward took a seat with him at the table and leant on his joined hands to watch him.

“It’s Hungarian,” Oswald informed him shortly, matching his gaze unflinchingly.

“Were you born there?” he was asked eagerly. “Or did your parents move here before that?”

“You’re a very curious person aren’t you?”

Edward leant back quickly as if he’d been slapped and Oswald felt a sudden guilt.

“I don’t mind,” he added softly. “I’m just not used to people being interested in me. Well, not as a person anyway.”

“Why ever not?”

Oswald frowned at him.

“Are you blind?” he asked quite seriously. “Do you need to put those eyeglasses on again?”

“No. I only need them for close work.”

There was a somewhat confused pause before Penguin raised his hands quite deliberately between them. Edward looked them over politely. When Oswald said nothing further he realised a response was required.

“You have fused fingers,” he offered.

“That doesn’t bother you?”

It was Edward’s turn to frown.

“Should it? I’m sorry. I don’t always understand social conventions.”

An honest laugh broke out of Oswald.

“Most of society see me and assume I’m little better than the beast they name me after. Please don’t apologise for seeing me as a fellow human.”

“Of course you’re human. Do people really not see that?”

His query was met with a sad slow shake of the head.

“That’s terrible.”

“I’m used to it.” Oswald shrugged. “My father thought I was the son of a devil. He was going to throw me in the river and have my mother burnt as a witch. That’s why she left Hungary with me. We scraped together enough to survive for a while but…”

His eyes filled with sudden tears as he remembered the past he’d thought forgotten.

“She was giving all the food to me. I was her growing boy. She… she wasn’t a strong woman. Not in body though in spirit she was indomitable.”

The tears flowed down his cheeks and he waited for an admonishment that never came. A commentary on what became of women who danced with the devil.

“She must have loved you very much.”

The statement brought a fresh spurt of tears and he nodded mutely.

“I wish my mother had thought half so highly of me.”

Oswald wanted to question that comment but his throat was still too constricted to form words and in the instant later Edward had arisen from the table.

“I think I should fill you a bath and get you some better clothes to wear.”

“A bath?”

The genuine bemusement made Edward smile and he laid a reassuring hand upon Oswald’s shoulder.

“Trust me. You’ll like it.”

By the time Oswald had pulled himself together, Edward had seemingly finished his preparations and Oswald moved across the room to find a large metal tub positioned in front of the fireplace. A strange twisted contraption of copper tubes and cylinders ran over the hearth and as Oswald watched water cascaded out of one end into the tub.

“It’s my own invention,” Edward told him. “Rather than filling several kettles you just need to create a pathway for the water with a suitable resting place where it can heat and then tubes to carry the hot water down.”

“Where does the water come from?”

“The roof,” Edward said as if that explained everything. Oswald decided not to worry about it.

“What’s it all for?”

“Washing.” The simple answer confused Oswald and he glanced up.

“You’re going to wash my clothes in here?”

That bright grin split Edward’s face again.

“No. Although that’s not a bad idea. But its for washing _you._ ” As Oswald continued to look puzzled, Edward broke it down for him. “You strip off your clothes and sit in the water. Then use the scented bar there to wipe away any dirt on your skin.”

Finally Oswald understood and now he did the idea seemed very appealing. He quickly untied the rope belt and pulled the rough cloth over his head. A gasp then distracted him and he cast a fearful look his host’s way. But Edward didn’t look angry. Rather he looked concerned.

“Where did you get these marks?” His hand reached out but hesitated.

Oswald glanced down at himself, having forgotten that such welts and discolourations weren’t common for most people.

“The monks.”

“Monks did this to you?” Edward sounded horrified and Oswald found that oddly charming.

“Yes. Sometimes they said it was for my betterment. To beat the devil from me. Or they were following their own path to salvation.”

Edward helped Oswald step into the tub, balancing the smaller man as he struggled to lift his legs up and over.

“How was beating you going to help them find salvation?”

Oswald let out a surprised hiss as he sank down into the hot water.

“Oh! That feels nice.” Edward smiled but waited silently for an explanation. Oswald sighed. “The monks believe that by indulging in every vice they can come more humbly into the sight of their merciful god. I was lucky they only beat me. Other visitors to the monastery weren’t so lucky.”

“That’s what the witch finders are investigating,” Edward realised. “A sinful corruption of religion.”

“Yes. I had a prime view from my cell. I told them everything and directed them to the crypt where they’d find the new blasphemous altar.”

Edward unconsciously picked up a cloth and began soaping it.

“You are fortunate to be away from that place.”

A scowl marred Oswald’s features.

“My future is far from certain. I am not at all certain your witch finders will believe me over the monks.”

“But the evidence is clear to see.” As if to emphasise his statement, Edward ran the cloth across the mottled bruises covering Oswald’s chest.

“These mean nothing. I am a devil’s spawn. Any beating I get I deserve. And if they find the altar I have no doubt the monks will explain it away. No, at best I have bought myself a night away at the expense of more pain to come.”

“You do _not_ deserve to be hurt. And you are not devil spawn. You are as much one of god’s creatures as any of the monks. More so from the sounds of things.”

Oswald smiled up at him.

“You are very kind but it is heresy to described something as malformed as I as one of god’s creatures. Man was created in his image after all.”

“That’s a short sighted interpretation,” Edward blurted before biting his lip suddenly. Oswald reached up a misshapen hand to rest over where Edward’s had stopped its soothing motions.

“Edward?”

“Its… I… Have you heard of Giordano Bruno?”

The unexpected question threw Oswald and he shook his head.

“He was a Dominican Friar who had a vision. In it he saw the truth. That our world is but one of many. And that the infinite universe is filled with other life forms.”

“That’s what witch finder Bullock was accusing you of earlier?” Oswald realised. “Heretical beliefs?”

“Its not heretical,” Edward protested. “If anything it promotes God to a greater position as ruler of an infinity of worlds and lives, not merely our little home with one likeness of man.”

“Well, I won’t argue with you.” Oswald smiled. “And I won’t tell on you either.”

“Thank you. That means a lot to me.”

“As does your kindness to me.”

Edward smiled back at him and then gestured abruptly.

“Lean forward. I’ll clean your back for you.”

As Oswald did so he let his eyes slip shut to better soak up the sensation. It had been a very long time since he’d been touched with such tender care. He may only have one night of freedom from society’s persecution and he was determined to make the most of it.


	3. Chapter 3

Edward had left him soaking in the bath while he found suitable clothes and the warmth from the water had soothed aches he’d had so long he’d forgotten they weren’t inherent. And when he saw the items his host had picked out for him he’d felt delight. They were clean but more to the point they were the smart style of respectable folk. Oswald could pretend he was a well-thought-of citizen for an evening, even if the sleeves and trouser legs had to be folded up for him.

Once he was decent again Edward laid out dinner with apologies for the paucity of the selection, even though Oswald hadn’t seen so much food in his life. Initially he’d restrained himself, taking only a little from every dish, still fearful of chastisement for overstepping his bounds. But the heavenly taste broke down his resistance. He couldn’t help his eyes drifting shut as he savoured the stew and his stomach actually growled when he eyed the slab of cheese.

Edward insisted he eat more, going so far as to give him second helpings himself, and then watching quite happily as his guest practically devoured everything put in front of him. He felt slightly guilty afterwards when Edward began clearing the table and he could do little more than sit and rub his full stomach.

He’d half expected Edward to leave him alone then because it seemed obvious the man had plenty of work to focus on. There was a desk with a mixture of vials, jars and mortar to one side where he presumably mixed up his apothecary potions. To the other side of the room, in front of the small high window was a large notebook with drawings of astronomical bodies accompanied with text Oswald knew he wouldn’t understand even if he could read it.

However he was surprised to be joined again at the table by his host eager to talk. At first he worried he would disappoint as a conversationalist but then he realised Edward just wanted someone to talk to, even if they didn’t understand. He just wanted a listener to pay attention to him. It was a feeling Oswald could sympathise with so he did his best.

And he found himself enjoying it. Edward explained all about the various herbs and minerals he used and what each one did. Oswald found we was able to contribute to this discussion since his mother had utilised plants they found on their wandering for any ailments they each might experience. It was exciting to find themselves often describing the same herb but calling it a different name.

Then Edward moved onto what was clearly his passion: the study of the heavens. To a degree Oswald could follow his references to constellations and planets because they’d guided his own footsteps much of his life but he could only listen enthralled as Edward lost himself to expounding upon the heliocentric theory. The man was almost babbling in his excitement of sharing the revelation with someone, and no wonder since anyone else he tried to tell might accuse him of heresy for it.

Oswald only interrupted him once, to ask why it was so important. After all, to those eking out a living on the surface of the Earth what did it matter whether the sun went round the Earth or vice versa. The effect was the same. Edward’s answer captivated him.

“These small minded clergy are so set on their view of the Earth being the only occupied planet in the universe, just as they’re so set on one divine model of people. If I’m right – and if I can prove it – that the Earth goes around the Sun and every star in the night sky has its own populated Earth, then maybe it’ll show them that all shapes and sizes of people are god’s creatures too.”

Edward rapidly moved onto the various ways this might be proved, citing the confusing nature of the known orbits, but Oswald couldn’t keep up with that. He was comfortable, tired, happy and perfectly content to rest on his arms and lose himself to the soft cadence of Edward’s friendly voice. There was a peace here that he hadn’t felt since he was last held in his mother’s arms and he could almost hear her lyrical singing in the rise and fall of Edward’s words.

All too soon though he was being tugged awake.

“Time for bed.”

Oswald blinked sleepily, unwilling to say goodbye to the wonderful evening yet regretfully unable to keep his eyelids open much longer. He pulled himself to his feet and shuffled towards where the tub had been moved from in front of the dying fire.

“Do you have a spare blanket?” he asked cautiously, not wanting to push his luck but also feeling the first pricklings of the cold night.

“Whatever are you doing?” Edward frowned down at him in puzzlement.

“Going to bed.” Oswald gestured vaguely at the cleared space.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Edward caught his elbow and guided him towards the other end of the room. “It’s a cold night and we’ll undoubtedly both be warmer if we share the bed.”

“Share the…?” Oswald stared down at the warm looking blankets piled atop a plump mattress.

“Oh.” Edward stopped short. “Unless… Is that going to be uncomfortable for you? Sharing with me I mean.”

“You’re worried about my comfort?”

“Of course. You’re my guest. If you don’t want to share I’ll take a blanket over-”

“Absolutely not!” Oswald hadn’t intended to interrupt so rudely but the idea of his host giving up his bed for him was out of the question. He flushed in embarrassment at his presumptuousness and cast his gaze instead to the bed. “It looks perfectly big enough for two. If you’re sure you don’t mind sharing with me?”

When he risked a glance back to Edward the man was smiling widely again.

“Not at all,” he promised. “Like I said, it’ll be warmer. I’ll get you a nightshirt.”

Oswald waited awkwardly as Edward moved away. He was unused to his opinion being sought on anything and it was in some ways quite disconcerting to be suddenly treated like a human being. He kept expecting Edward to dismiss him as irrelevant or turn away from his uncomely appearance. Yet the man seemed genuinely unconcerned by his deformity and almost happy to share his company. Even happy to defer to his preference. He found himself wishing they might continue the friendship and quickly squashed down the foolish notion.

“Here.” As Edward handed him his nightwear, Oswald nodded briefly before turning away to change. He took a deep breath. It was no good wishing for the future to be anything other than what it would be but he was still determined to enjoy his time here while he could. Therefore he turned back to Edward with a grateful smile.

The man returned his smile as if he too were grateful for the evening before pulling back the covers and clambering in. Oswald followed suit more clumsily and rolled unintentionally into Edward only to be caught in lanky arms.

“There. Snug as two bugs in a rug.”

Oswald had tensed at the contact but hearing Edward sound so content eased his anxiety and he relaxed.

“It is incredibly comfortable.”

“The straw’s a bit scratchy,” Edward apologised faintly over his head. Oswald huffed a laugh against his shoulder.

“After what I’m used to, believe me this is luxury.”

Edward hummed in response and Oswald concentrated himself in listening to the other man’s breathing. He could feel the inhalations of his chest rising and falling from where he was leant against it. Despite his attempts to hold off sleep a while longer the softness and gentleness had their inevitable effect and he fell quickly into slumber.

When Oswald awoke he could not immediately disentangle reality from dream, as they seemed to him the same. He was lying in blissful comfort and being held with a tenderness he had not thought to experience again.

The harsh sound of rapping against wood snapped him more fully awake just as it did Edward who sat bolt upright.

“Nygma!” Harvey Bullock’s brogue announced his identity without further words.

“One moment,” Edward called out, struggling to disentangle his long limbs from the bedding.

Oswald shuffled himself quickly out the opposite side, shivering as the cool air struck him but refusing to be seen in a position that might compromise Edward’s standing with the witch finders. He had managed to situate himself by the table, leaning his weight against it as his stiff legs refused to cooperate properly, by the time Edward opened the door.

James Gordon strode in first, casting only a brief acknowledging glance at Edward before fixing his stern look upon Oswald. Bullock however hesitated beside Nygma, gazing up and down at him.

“Not so bothered about appearing improperly dressed today are you?” he pointed out.

Edward instinctively wrapped his arms protectively about himself but answered promptly enough.

“Yesterday I was trying to be delicate about answering a call of nature,” he bit out.

Gordon interrupted any reply his partner might have offered to that.

“Penguin any trouble?” He didn’t take his eyes off Penguin while he spoke and Oswald found himself ducking his own gaze out of an indefinable sense of embarrassment.

“Not at all. He’s been a perfect house guest.”

He cast a grateful look to his tall host before his eyes were caught again by James’ disgruntled look.

“Glad to hear it. Put some clothes on Penguin. We’re taking you back now.”

“Back?” Edward stepped over to stand at the table near Oswald. “You can’t take him back. Do you have any idea what goes on at that monastery?”

His objection brought him the scrutiny of both witch finders.

“I’d say we know a lot better than you Nygma,” Harvey suggested.

“We followed Penguin’s information,” Gordon offered more diplomatically. “And there was indeed a hidden cult festering in their crypt. But it was hardly the wholesale corruption he led us to believe.” He stared accusingly at him as he continued.

“A monk named Brother Manfred broke down and confessed. There were a few others, including one distressingly young novitiate called Conrad, but they’re all being dealt with now. The Abbott was most mortified at the discovery. And quite hurt that you exaggerated claims against them after all the monks have done for you.”

“All the monks have done for him?” Edward snorted. “Have you seen his injuries?”

Harvey stepped intimidatingly towards Nygma.

“He’s a liar,” he stated. “He lied to us, he lied to you, and what’s worse is he slandered the people who took care of him, people of God. I’d say he deserved a beating.”

James held out a placating hand to Bullock before speaking to Edward himself.

“He’s lucky they’re willing to take him back.” He turned his eyes back onto Penguin. “They still hope for salvation for your soul.”

“He can stay here,” Nygma suggested stubbornly.

Harvey shook his head derisively.

“I may not like the freak but if the monks think there’s a chance for his soul then I’m going to make sure he gets it. Not leave him here to reinforce your heretical ideas.”

Edward seemed about to repute this but Oswald laid his hand upon his arm.

“Thank you for all you have done my friend, but I always knew I would be going back. Do not trouble yourself further on my account.”

The taller man looked at him pleadingly but met only a resolute stare. Eventually he swallowed and nodded.

“Please, keep the clothes.”

Oswald smiled his gratitude and moved back to the bed to dress for his journey, carefully folding his borrowed nightshirt and laying it upon the pillow. When he moved back to his escort, Bullock looked him up and down and tsked.

“You can dress it up how you like,” he commented, “but you can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear.”

Despite the jibe, Oswald still held his head high as he walked out in his borrowed garments. He couldn’t bear to look back at what he was leaving behind though.


	4. Chapter 4

It wasn’t until the second day that Edward was ready to go visit Oswald and even then he left it until he had closed the shop for the day before setting out. The weather had turned threatening bringing an early gloom but he couldn’t delay his visit longer now he’d made his preparations.

The rain was thankfully holding off as he made his way quickly down to the monastery but it was obviously going to storm later. Not an unusual occurrence in this location where such weather often blew in off the sea.

When he approached the forbidding building he took care to plaster a smile on his face. The last thing he wanted was to give the inhabitants any idea he knew their secrets. Despite what James Gordon said, Edward knew it was more likely Penguin was right about this place. He could give three very good reasons for this belief if he was ever challenged to. The most damning were the wounds the supposed men of god had inflicted on Oswald. Second was the fact that Penguin had spent so much longer watching them than the witch finders’ brief investigation could equal. And lastly was Edward’s own personal understanding of the dismissiveness of people when you didn’t adhere to their ideals. Penguin’s unusual appearance meant no-one was willing to believe him in spite of the evidence. Except Edward.

The door opened slowly and a calculating face looked him over, resting with interest on the small wrapped package he’d brought.

“Yes?”

Edward felt sure that if he wasn’t cautious he’d end up another victim of this cult of cruelty. Luckily he’d planned an appropriate answer for his visit that should give him a measure of protection.

“Good day. I work with witch finder Gordon.” The monk’s eyes flickered slightly with anxiety but Edward kept his smile genial. At least he could be fairly sure they’d treat him with caution now. “I came to speak with Penguin in hopes of convincing him to leading a better life in the future. Anyone who would lie to the witch finders must look to the state of their soul after all. It’s a terrible thing to die in your sin.”

He realised a beat too late that his smile had disappeared and he was fixing the monk with too intense a stare. Quickly he flashed a bright smile instead. The monk didn’t look reassured but he offered no comment, simply pulling open the door.

“It will be time for the evening prayers shortly.”

Edward ignored the blatant hint.

“That’s alright. I can let myself out.”

From this side of the door the place looked more welcoming. Lamps were lit in various chambers casting a glow across the courtyard dispelling the evening darkness. When they stepped into the communal room there was a general murmuring and Edward saw several groups talking intently as they made their way allegedly towards the aforementioned evening prayer. His guide gestured him over to one side before moving himself to join a crowd who had stopped to observe their guest.

Edward ignored them the moment he set eyes on the cage in the wall. He wasn’t aware of moving until Oswald was staggering towards the bars and gaping at him.

“Edward! I didn’t expect to see you again my friend.”

Although Oswald was smiling at him Edward could only see the vivid bruising covering his left cheek and he had to clench his teeth in irritation. How could the witch finders have given him back to this treatment? His eyes quickly scanned for other injuries which might affect his planned proposal and he mentally noticed that Oswald still seemed possessed of his usual mobility. He couldn’t see if he was bruised elsewhere though for the darkness and too big garments. His fine clothes were gone, replaced once more with a rough monk’s habit.

“Perhaps that’s for the best,” Edward murmured thoughtfully to himself, missing the sad sigh his comment wrought. In truth he’d hardly heard Oswald’s comment to him and certainly hadn’t thought of his words in terms of a response. He was too focused on his rehearsed speech.

“Tell me,” he began again. “What is it that penguins can do that most people can’t?”

This time the hurt look on Oswald’s face was plainly apparent.

“If you’ve come to tease-” he began huffily only to be quickly interrupted.

“Swim. The answer is swim,” Edward explained as if this made sense of everything. “Can you swim Oswald?”

The imperative tone confused Oswald and he frowned in puzzlement.

“I don’t understand,” he admitted. “Why are you asking me?”

Edward leant closer conspiratorially.

“Because at midnight tonight this place could be flooded and I need to know before then – can you swim?”

“Wha-? How could you know something like that? Is it written in the stars?”

“No.” Edward pressed himself forward so he could speak in a whisper. “I have plans to destroy the dam. But _only_ if you can swim. So?”

A slow smile spread across Penguin’s face as he finally recognised the purpose to Edward’s visit.

“I can indeed my friend.”

Edward let out a relieved breath. Glad things were now going to script.

“Good.” He handed the small wrapped parcel through the bars. “I won’t lie. This is going to be dangerous but I believe in you Oswald. You’re stronger than anyone believes.”

Oswald was flustered by the compliment and focused on unwrapping his gift. A couple of slices of bread and cheese filled his hands.

“Thank you.”

A satisfied smile met his reply before Edward hastened to explain.

“There’s a key pushed into the cheese. Its designed to open any lock.” He cast a glance at the very heavy but equally simple padlock on the door. “Just before midnight, unlock the padlock but keep your door shut. The cell will protect you from being washed away. You’ll need to hold your breath though because it will only be safe to swim out once this place is full of water. Then get up to the surface outside and make for my shop.”

Oswald nodded along as he acknowledged the plan but as Edward finished he stared up in astonishment.

“Edward, do you understand what you’re offering to do? If someone finds out-”

“No-one will find out,” he insisted promptly. “The idea that I could do anything that might even dent the dam is ludicrous, unless one knows about volatile chemicals. And the only person who could turn me in is you. And I trust you not to do that Oswald.”

“But you’ll be killing people Edward. Doesn’t that concern you?”

“Not people.” Edward grasped the bars as his anger flared. “These monks who treat you like a monster, they’re the _real_ monsters. Using their façade of piety to conceal their prejudice and cruelty.”

Oswald wrapped his own hands over Edward’s.

“We’ll make people see,” he promised. “We’ll force them to open their eyes from their blinkered lives.”

For a brief moment they remained clasped together until Edward stepped back with a grin.

“Do eat the food though,” he added lightly. “You’ll need your strength.”

Penguin couldn’t help but chuckle lightly.

“I will,” he assured. “Until tonight?”

“I will wait up for you.”

With a final nod towards him Edward turned and headed towards the exit. The monk who had shown him in followed quickly, clearly with the intent of making sure he left. Oswald waited until he saw the man return and follow his brethren down into the crypt before all but devouring his meal. The monks had not been pleased with him since he returned and made it clear he’d have been killed already if they weren’t wary of a repeat visit by the witch finders. In that sense Edward’s visit might prove beneficial as it showed Penguin was not forgotten in the outside world yet.

Not that it would matter long. He grinned to himself as he fingered the key in his awkward hands. There was not even a smidgeon of him that felt sorry for his captors. Especially not as the sounds of their cavorting began to reach his ears. He concealed himself in the darkness at the back of his prison room and counted the bells as they chimed away his last hours in this place. The plan was indeed dangerous but Oswald knew he had no choice. He could not endure much longer in this place, not having experienced how his life could be on the outside, and even if he could it was inevitable the monks would kill him soon. Their amusement at their pet was no longer sufficient in light of the risk they now realised he might pose.

Anticipation and fear were a potent mix though which distorted his senses. He found himself forgetting which hour he heard last and thinking he heard bells ring only to realise later that he must have been mistaken. And that was before the storm broke.

At first the thunder was merely a distant rumble but gradually it grew loud and crashed overhead. Combined with the lashing rain, it became almost impossible to distinguish the hourly chimes and Oswald worried at his bottom lip, clutching the key tightly in his hand all the while. The monks in contrast grew ever more exuberant as even their loudest shouts and screams were drowned out by nature’s cacophony.

Oswald cautiously moved across to the barred door despite risking drawing their attention. He’d thought over Edward’s plan and understood precisely what was needed of him. Keeping a wary eye on the rioting men roving through the chambers, he untied his rope belt and securely tied each end to the bars, forming a sling about himself. It was loose enough he should be able to slip out easily but tight enough to prevent him being slammed against the stone wall. Then he tried to listen for the distinctive rhythm of twelve chimes.

Thunder continued to boom and echo with aftershocks but Oswald thought he picked up a beat in the last trembling reverberation. He hesitated a second though as he realised his heart was hammering and it sounded now just as loud. That was until another roar grew on the heels of the dying thunder crack. With a sudden stillness of breath he forced the key into the padlock and silently offered a prayer to his mother to watch over him, one way or another.

The satisfying click of the padlock releasing was the last clear sound he heard before the water rushed in. The speed of it was terrifying and the force of it as it literally ripped the huge entry doors from their hinges froze him in terror. It knocked him off his feet and only his makeshift sling catching under his arms prevented him being swept to the back of his cell. He gripped instinctively at the bars and hauled himself to them, the water now rebounding from behind him to crush him forward.

He could hear the fearful cries of the monks now but they were already getting fainter as the waves carried them away into the depths of the monastery. Oswald didn’t spare them any more thought as he focused on his own survival. The waters were climbing quickly and already he was being lifted up from the floor. Clumsily he reached through the swirling currents to unhook the padlock, his fingers getting even more awkward in the cold water. As it dropped away the eddies began to wrench the door open and he was tempted to move through it but he recalled Edward’s warning. He didn’t want to end up resting down with the blasphemous monks.

Instead he let the water carry him upwards and concentrated on evening out his breathing while he still could. He daren’t move away from the reassuring press of the bars holding him in place though. Not until he was at the ceiling and inhaling his last full breath of air.

Even then he waited, watching the debris still being carried in and on towards its final resting place. Desperately he focused his mind on the timings involved. He estimated his cell had flooded in less than a minute and the water was still flowing in full force. The rest of the communal room would take longer to fill but he could hold his breath probably twice as long as it had taken to fill his chamber. It wasn’t the first time he’d had to hide in water and he knew staying calm was key.

As soon as the first waves lapped the ceiling though he pushed himself out into the current. It was a struggle to swim against the flow but he had stubborn determination to survive on his side and so close to freedom he would not give up easily. Once he reached the burst open door to the courtyard everything was easier. He simply pulled himself up the side of the building to the surface and used the water to help support him against the stonework, pulling himself up gradually with the rising levels.

It gave him a chance to regain his breath and recover his strength so that once the river broke over the top of the building he felt confident enough to push off for the valley wall. His mind stayed solely focused on cutting through the drifting waters until his hands found solid ground and he dragged himself onto land again. It was only then he realised the rain was still lashing down and he laughed almost deliriously.

Then he set off on the path the witch finders had taken him days ago, his dripping robe clinging and the cold seeping into his bones making them ache. Yet he never hesitated in his path, eyes set ahead for the welcome sight of a light on in a window.

Climbing the narrow staircase took the last of his strength and he couldn’t even raise a hand to knock. All he managed was to drop his head heavily forward.

Edward was obviously listening for him because the door swung open quickly enough to make him stagger and only quick arms prevented him falling. Oswald managed to look up and was rewarded with a bright happy smile.

It was the last thing he saw before passing out.


	5. Chapter 5

When Oswald awoke he was initially confused about where he was. Reality and hallucination had never seemed so topsy turvy. For the longest time his every day routine had consisted of abuse and recognition of what most would consider an absurdity – that men of god would turn to depravity – not such a typically domestic scene. For a moment he was sure this was just another of his dreams, and he wasn’t even sure his visit the previous time hadn’t been all in his imagination either.

But then details struck him that he doubted he could have conjured unaided. He was tucked under an additional throw, heavier than the blankets underneath and hideously patterned. Clearly it had been pieced together from collected scraps. And he was wearing long woollen socks and lumpy mittens along with his nightshirt.

More conclusive proof though was the fact his pointy nose was running with the beginning of a cold. He sniffed loudly and looked for a handkerchief. There was one by the bedside and he struggled out of the mittens to grasp it.

“Good morning.”

He blew his nose first before looking up at Edward who was smiling down at him.

“Morning,” he replied hoarsely.

Edward frowned and sat down beside him, reaching out to press a hand against his forehead.

“I thought this might happen. You’ve caught a chill. I dried you off as best I could but you were soaked through when you got here.”

Oswald smiled, deeply touched by the tone of concern.

“A small price to pay for my freedom.”

That brought a smile back briefly onto his host’s face until a worried frown materialised again.

“There wasn’t any problem with the key? You weren’t hurt by the flood? Do you think you swallowed any water?”

He couldn’t help but laugh at the verbosity although he regretted it as that made him cough. When the fit passed he found Edward had moved to better support him and was now proffering a cup of something.

“Tea with ginger. Good for a sore throat,” he said.

The warmth from the cup spread into his cold hands and the steam helped clear his head a little.

“Thank you,” he murmured gratefully as he took a careful sip.

It felt incredibly nice to be settled so comfortably, with a secure arm round his shoulders and a fragrant drink in his grasp. There was a strange calm between them given their unusual meeting and subsequent shared complicity. Edward may have been the one to destroy the dam but Oswald had been as involved by his silence and encouragement. Yet he knew they both felt the same about it all. They had only cast back the evil upon those who deserved it.

Oswald couldn’t remember ever meeting anyone who understood his viewpoint so perfectly and who he understood so easily in return. Someone with whom he felt safe. He glanced subtly up at where Edward’s eyes were scanning over Oswald’s hair which he was sure must be a mess after everything yesterday. Then Edward’s gaze shifted as he poised to say something only to stumble when his eyes met Oswald’s.

“Oswald-”

A knock at the door interrupted whatever he might have said and he stood abruptly, almost causing his guest to spill his tea.

“Are you always so popular?” Oswald teased, hoping to ease the tension he could see across his friend’s shoulders. Edward cast an amused smile back at him but didn’t reply as he moved to the door.

“Can I help-” he began to say as he opened it only to stop mid sentence.

“Good morning Mister Nygma.” Oswald recognised James Gordon’s voice. “I have some news you might find upsetting. May I come in?”

Edward hesitated a brief moment before resigning himself to the inevitable and letting the witch finder inside. James strode forward only to halt, obviously stunned by the sight of Oswald still tucked up in Edward’s bed. His gaze immediately darted inquisitively to Nygma who had shut the door with a heavy sigh.

“I presume you came to tell me about the tragedy at the monastery?” Edward suggested.

“I did. I thought you might like to hear it from me rather than gossip because I knew you’d taken a shine to Penguin.” He looked almost accusingly at the aforementioned individual as he said it.

“I appreciate the consideration.” Edward gestured to his small dining table. “Won’t you sit? There’s water recently boiled if you would like a drink?”

James moved to the table but didn’t remove his gaze from Oswald.

“What I would like,” he said emphatically, “is to know how come someone I believed to be dead is sitting in your bed Nygma.” His piercing look switched to Edward who took the remaining chair before replying.

“Oswald arrived last night during the storm. I almost didn’t hear his knocking over the sound of it. He was drenched and exhausted and only just awoke a few minutes before you arrived.”

“Really?” The intense gaze switched to Penguin again. “And why did you come here?”

Oswald shrugged awkwardly, still clutching his mug to wring every last drop of heat from it.

“Where else was I supposed to go? This is where you yourself brought me to be safe before.”

“And what can you tell me about what happened? How did you escape? As far as we can tell so far no-one else has. Men are combing the area now for survivors.”

“I don’t know much about it. All I know is there was an awful storm and suddenly the monastery was filling with water. Everyone else was washed away by it but I was of course in my cell. I thought I might drown in there as the waters rose. Then providence intervened and a stone broke down the bars and I was able to swim out.”

“Providence,” James repeated thoughtfully, surveying the unusual creature before him. “Most people would say it was witch craft.”

“Be reasonable,” Edward interjected automatically only to quail slightly under the witch finder’s challenging look. He swallowed hard and forced himself to continue. “The storm last night must have been the will of God. Who else would have such power to breach our strongest dam? And isn’t it likely He would wish to wash clean the tainted site of those blasphemous priests you uncovered? Such pernicious ideas must be unambiguously eradicated if society is to remain pure.”

“Amen,” Gordon agreed almost instinctively. He cast a more assessing glance over the two men, obviously taking in Oswald’s current fragile state. “I’ll speak with Harvey Dent over what the situation is legally but is it alright for Penguin to stay with you in the meantime Nygma?”

“Absolutely. Oswald can stay as long as he likes.”

Gordon looked again between the odd pair, and he couldn’t have missed the happy smiles.

“Well, don’t go anywhere for a few days Penguin. I might have some more questions for you.”

“I don’t intend to,” he huffed, a sudden lethargy coming over him as the witch finder moved to leave.

“Oswald’s in no state to go anywhere for a few days,” Edward confirmed as he showed James out. Oswald barely noticed as his eyelids began to droop shut. He started slightly though as he felt the cup shift from his hands and gripped it more tightly.

“Sshhsh. Let me take that,” Edward soothed, leaning closer and pulling the empty cup away. Then he angled his arms round his sleepy friend and eased him back under the covers. “Rest now. You have nothing to fear anymore.”

Oswald fell asleep to the gentle feeling of a hand stroking through his dark hair. He dozed through the rest of that day, awakening only for Edward to hand him more drinks or encourage him to eat something with him. When night fell he was joined again in bed by Edward who pressed against him in an obvious attempt to help keep his shivering form warm.

The diligent care and attention paid off as the symptoms of flu were diminished by the morning. Although Oswald still had the sniffles and felt under the weather, he was coherent enough to stay awake, sitting up in bed and watching Edward work. He even got up long enough to try on some second hand clothes that Edward folded and pinned with the intention of adjusting for him. Despite his protests that he could manage the sewing himself while resting, Edward was insistent that Oswald do nothing more strenuous than take another evening bath. And Oswald had to admit that the fragrant warm water went a long way towards easing his breathing and getting rid of the last of his shivers. By the time he dropped back into bed he was pleasantly drowsy rather than woozily ill, although he gave no protest at being cuddled again by Edward.

Awakening for the third morning after his rescue he felt as close to human as he could ever remember and at ease in a way that he hoped might become normal for him. It was easy to forget that there was a harsh world outside these walls. Everything he could want was inside and he found himself hoping he wouldn’t have to leave. Hadn’t Edward said he could stay as long as he liked?

But the world wasn’t as ready to let him stay in peace as he was reminded by another knock at the door. It didn’t surprise him to see James Gordon there. Nor did it surprise Edward who apparently didn’t get any other casual visitors.

“Nygma.” He nodded a greeting. “Harvey Dent wants to see Penguin.”

“The lawyer?” Edward frowned and cast a concerned glance Oswald’s way. “What does he want with Oswald?”

“All I know is its to do with the legal issues brought about by the tragedy at the monastery.”

Oswald looked to Edward for guidance. He’d never had to deal with legal matters before and couldn’t help but think this was some kind of trap. Edward’s brow was furrowed in thought.

“May I accompany him?”

“Dent didn’t say it was private so I don’t see why not.”

Edward nodded.

“Give me a minute and I’ll help Oswald get dressed.”

He left Gordon in the doorway and moved back to the bedside, picking up the pile of altered clothes as he went. Oswald stood automatically and gave a pointed glance to the witch finder who obligingly turned to give him some privacy.

“Do you think they suspect me of witchcraft?” he whispered as Edward leaned down to help him pull on his shirt and button it.

“I don’t think so. If they did Gordon would take you for questioning.”

“What about you? There’s no way…” he trailed off. Even though the witch finder couldn’t hear them he was unwilling to voice Edward’s misdemeanours so close.

“Not a chance,” Edward declared. “Don’t worry. I’m sure it’s a formality. And I’ll be with you. Whatever happens.”

The affirmation was comforting. As was being dressed in proper clothing. Oswald paused to take a cursory glance at himself and felt a swell of pride. He looked far better than he ever had before and wondered if he mightn’t improve his look further if he made some effort with his hair. That was a consideration for another time though and he dismissed it as he accompanied Edward out of the apartment for the first time.

It wasn’t far from the apothecary shop to the lawyer’s residence and for the first time Oswald could get a feel for the town. Even in its preliminary stage there was already an air to it. A sense that this was going to be someplace. And the people here were clearly of the same mind if their downward looks to Oswald were any indication. Obviously their view of the future Gotham did not include people like him. He was very glad to reach the relative sanctuary of Dent’s office.

He was also pleasantly surprised by Mister Dent. When the lawyer greeted him he gave no indication of being at all disturbed by his appearance.

“Mister Kapelput. Mister Nygma. Please take a seat.”

The two shared an intrigued glance as they complied.

“I’ll get right to the point,” Harvey spoke plainly. “Given recent events, all the inhabitants of the monastery have been declared officially dead, with the exception of Mister Kapelput. Searches have turned up nothing and if anyone had survived they would have shown up by now. That being the case we have had to look through the wills and decipher the correct protocol. It was surprisingly simple.

“Residents of the monastery all followed the same procedure. It was customary to draw up a will that would leave any money or possessions to the remaining residents. While most possessions were destroyed with the residence, their money was mostly housed in the bank and is thus intact.”

He stopped and looked expectantly at his two guests. Oswald turned in confusion to Edward who was looking puzzled. He leaned towards Dent.

“Are you saying… that Oswald inherits everything?”

Oswald’s gaze darted back to the lawyer.

“As the sole surviving resident, Mister Oswald Kapelput legally inherits everything, yes.” He turned his gaze to meet the stunned eyes of Penguin. “You are now officially the second richest man in Gotham.”


	6. Chapter 6

Mister Dent went on to read out a statement summarising the conclusions, which was dutifully signed by those present, but Oswald could take very little of it in. He only really snapped back to himself when the lawyer reached over to shake his hand.

“I’ll speak to the bank this morning about setting up your account,” he promised. Oswald swallowed hard, overwhelmed by the casual respect being shown him, and shakily nodded his thanks. He wasn’t sure he’d have remembered how to leave on his own but Edward laid a gentle hand on his shoulder and guided him back into the street.

The air outside struck him as at once refreshing but also heavy with oppression and he had to sit to recover his breath. To his relief Edward didn’t pass any comment but simply sat beside him on the narrow seat and watched the passing people, who paid them no attention whatsoever. While Oswald was adjusting, Edward couldn’t help his own mind running ahead.

“This may be the last time you get over looked like this,” he murmured as much to himself as Oswald.

“Hhmm?”

“I was just thinking,” Edward gestured to where the citizens were going about their business, “all these people have no idea that the newest eligible bachelor is sitting right here in their midst. Come tomorrow the news will be everywhere and you’ll be spoilt for attention.”

Oswald snorted inelegantly but the ridiculous notion had the benefit of bringing his own mind out of its swirls of fancy.

“I think you’re forgetting some very prominent details,” he reminded him with a brief gesture to his facial abnormalities that neatly brought Edward’s attention to both them and his fused hand.

“And _I_ think you’re underestimating the effect that much money will have on peoples’ perceptions,” he countered.

“Regardless, I want nothing to do with anyone who’s only interested in me because of my wealth.” He blinked suddenly as the act of speaking the words drove home the reality to him and his mind drifted again until Edward spoke.

“What will you do now?”

It was a good question, Oswald reflected, and one he’d already been pondering before his changed circumstances. All he really wanted was to live peacefully with someone who accepted him unconditionally. Like Edward. But while he might have imposed upon the man’s hospitality while he was destitute, it was hardly fair now. He needed to pay his own way.

Yet he didn’t want to establish himself amongst these fickle friends who would doubtless be flocking to him come the morning. Bad enough being surrounded by them when they openly despised him, he didn’t think he could stand it when they wore false smiles. After his time with the duplicitous monks he had come to value honesty more than ever.

“I suppose,” he began hesitantly, “I will buy some land and build a house for myself. Somewhere outside of town where I can be undisturbed.”

“Oh.” Edward nodded. “I can see why you’d want to do that.”

In truth Oswald didn’t want that exactly. He hated being alone and ached for the days when he’d had his mother’s constant love always with him. Ideally he’d have a family round him. If not those related by blood then those related by love and affection.

“Or perhaps,” he amended, “I could build a sanctuary. A home for lost souls like myself. Anyone outcast from society.”

Edward smiled at him.

“Like the Ark? Appropriate after the flood.”

Oswald couldn’t help but smile back at him.

“It would be a fitting name wouldn’t it?” he agreed. “The Ark. Home for those who don’t fit elsewhere.”

“I think that’s a wonderful idea Oswald.”

Edward laid his hand once again upon his shoulder and Oswald felt a desperate desire to keep it there. He didn’t want Edward to leave him. It seemed that all his hope would dissipate with his departure.

“Although,” he began awkwardly. “I really have no idea how to begin such an undertaking. I’ve never had to manage money. And I have no notion of running such an institution.”

He cast a hopeful gaze at his companion.

“Well, I’m sure Mister Dent and the bank will be able to advise you.”

Oswald cursed to himself.

“But what if my residents need medical treatments? I’ll have need of an apothecary.”

His heart soared as Edward turned to him with a bright smile.

“You know where you can find me. I’ll always be here for you Oswald.”

He couldn’t meet that open gaze and dropped his own eyes into his lap as his heart stumbled. Maybe Edward didn’t wish to continue their association. Perhaps he would be happy to be left in peace himself again. For a long moment Oswald weighed up the right thing to do. Should he take the risk of driving off the only friend he’d made? Or was it worth gathering his courage to see if perhaps his feelings might be reciprocated?

Taking a deep breath but keeping his gaze lowered he ploughed onwards.

“I know we’ve only known each other a week, and I’ll understand if you don’t want to but, I could build your own quarters there. Fund any research materials you desired. I’ll even install a room for your observations of the heavens.”

He chanced a look up to find Edward was staring at him in complete shock and he panicked.

“But of course you’ll probably prefer to stay in town. It must be more convenient for customers and I’m sure you like your own space. I’ll pay you back for your hospitality-”

“Oswald.”

He stopped suddenly at Edward’s low tone.

“You want me to stay with you?”

“Yes,” he answered honestly before clarifying. “Only if you want to though.”

A look back up to Edward gave him an unbelievable answer. Edward was grinning fit to burst.

“Oh I would love to! A place away from prying busy bodies sounds wonderful. And could we really have a tower built for observations? Maybe on a site high up?”

“Absolutely. Anything for you.” Oswald blushed as he heard himself and hoped Edward wouldn’t notice. The feeling of a hand upon his arm made him shiver despite himself.

“You’re a wonder Oswald. I’d say it’s a shame other people can’t see it past their preconceptions but I’m afraid I’m too selfish to share.”

Oswald smiled and tilted his head back up to his companion.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re crazy Edward?” he teased.

He regretted the joke immediately as he saw his face fall and his shoulders tense. Without considering the propriety he placed his own hand over where Edward’s was still resting on his arm. The action at least diverted Edward’s attention out of his memories.

“And has anyone ever told you they loved you,” Oswald added softly.

Startled brown eyes flew up to latch onto his nervous gaze but, despite his terror at the possible humiliation, Oswald held his eyes with determination.

“Not yet,” Edward replied quietly.

Oswald’s heart hammered at the suggestion in those two words. That he might not mind it if Oswald did. That perhaps he may even welcome it. But now was not the time and here was certainly not the place for such a discussion. Still, the understanding passed between them that later, in a more private setting, they would return to this topic.

Now however Edward took the initiative to move them and he gently tugged on Oswald’s hand as he stood.

“It’s a clear day,” he commented mildly. “What do you say we take a walk out of town and survey some of the areas we might wish to invest in for our future home?”

The warmth of the phrase _our future home_ burned off any lingering chill Oswald might have felt and he smiled happily. Then he wrapped his arm carefully into Edward’s, visually to allow the taller man to support his awkward gait, but in reality to share in the welcomed intimacy.

“That sounds a splendid idea,” he agreed. “And tomorrow I will shop for a new wardrobe. You have yet to see me looking my best.”

“Oswald, I find you stunning as you are.”

“Well be prepared my dear. For I fully intend to turn from an ugly duckling into a swan.”

“So everyone else will see your worth?”

Oswald turned a very fond gaze onto him.

“So everyone else will berate themselves for being so blind. I intend for them to acknowledge _your_ worth in seeing what they could not.”

“As long as your own head isn’t turned in the process.”

“They’ve missed their chance.” He dismissed them easily. “You’ll find that us Kapelputs are very loyal when someone earns our trust.”

“You’ll forgive me if I don’t take any chances. Now I have your affection I do not intend to lose it.”

“Oh?”

“For a start I will buy you a selection of delicacies. You are far too thin!”

Oswald couldn’t help but laugh which drew several disdainful looks. Not that he cared for those.

“But Edward, I’m the one with the money. I should be spoiling you with luxuries.”

Edward sniffed indifferently.

“Can you cook?” he challenged with a supercilious eyebrow raised. Oswald had to shake his head. Although he could put together stews, that really was the extent of his knowledge.

“In that case I shall most certainly spoil you with fine dining,” Edward insisted. Oswald let out an overly dramatic self-sacrificing sigh. He jumped a little when he felt Edward’s whispering breath against his ear. “And I shall find other ways to reward your affection too,” he promised.

Another shiver passed through Oswald and he stumbled slightly. He had only a vague idea what Edward might be referring to and the idea both thrilled and terrified him in equal measure. To his relief though Edward clearly wasn’t about to press any further.

The taller man straightened and gestured to a prominent incline a little way off.

“That looks like a promising site, don’t you agree?”

“I trust your judgement.”

Edward smiled happily at him and turned their path to their new destination. As he did so he briskly raised Oswald’s hand to his lips and kissed the back, casting a quick glance sideways to make sure the gesture was welcomed.

As Oswald smiled beatifically back at him he decided that whatever Edward proposed was likely to be fine with him. No matter if it involved his life, property or heart there was really only one thing that mattered.

He trusted him.


End file.
